


As the Days March On

by soldmysoultofandoms



Series: Breathe [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gangs, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, References to Drugs, Sexual Abuse, Underage Rape/Non-con, banana fish - Freeform, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24352426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldmysoultofandoms/pseuds/soldmysoultofandoms
Summary: Faces, new and old. Distant memories and friendships. Tender love, and dark lust. One world that he never wanted to be in, and another world that he dreamed of.Lance's life was never simple. That much is certain. These are the moments that made up his past, and unknowingly shaped his future.-------Tags will be updated as chapters go up.
Relationships: Lance (Voltron)/Other(s), Lance/Original Character(s)
Series: Breathe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740451
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Prove Your Worth

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Mentions of underage non/dub-con. Blood, violence against a minor. 
> 
> Please note: The characters in the chapter below are speaking Spanish to each other, but i wrote it in english because I am so very lazy and do not wish to write translations.

**_January 14th, 2112- Havana, Cuba_ **

“Sit up straight.” 

The command came hissed through clenched teeth, a hand roughly gripping his knee. Lance only barely managed to muffle the whimper that arose inside his mouth, fearing punishment. His shoulder went back automatically, and he gripped the armrests of the chair he was sitting in in the hopes of calming the constant shaking of his hands. 

“Good boy.” a kiss was pressed to his temple, and it took Lance everything to not bolt from his seat. 

_ Breathe. Breathe. _

He needed to focus. To listen and behave so that the jefe wouldn’t have a reason to punish him. If he did what he was told, maybe all he would have to do is use his hands, and then the jefe would let him go home and see his family.

For about the tenth time since they arrived a half hour ago, Lance looked around the room, trying to remember every detail, as the jefe told him to.

Twelve tall, brown leather chairs, five on each long side of the dark wood table, one each at the small sides.

Three of the walls were white, and one wall was entirely made of windows, giving a spectacular view of the city from where they were on the 15th floor. 

There was a plant in one corner of the room, the one closest to the door. It was leafy and full, obviously well taken care of. 

Twelve glasses in front of each chair, and a crystal bottle full of brown liquid sat on a silver platter at the center of the table. 

Lance didn't understand how any of this was valuable information, but he didn't dare question the jefe.

“Ah, ****, you brought a sample today! How wonderful!” Lance jumped slightly in his seat, too lost in his own thoughts to hear the large double doors open. The jefe stood up and bowed his head slightly, freshly shorn face boasting a confident smile as he chuckled. Hazel eyes flitted to his own, and a pointed look caused Lance to quickly stand as well, bowing a bit deeper than the jefe had, before looking up at the man who had spoken. 

He seemed older than the jefe, his hair was graying along the side, as well as in his moustache, which was thick above his lips, but other than that, there were no signs of age, skin so smooth it almost looked. as if it was pulled tight. The way he looked at Lance frightened him. It was the same one the jefe and the other angels had when they wanted him to do all that gross stuff. 

There were nine more men behind him, all three of which seemed to be Cuban as well, five white, and one Lance couldn't really tell. Perhaps he was mixed. 

"Don Fernandez, a pleasure as always. This is Leonardo." the jefe said as he took a seat at the head of the table, with the jefe to his immediate right.

Lance bowed again. "Hello, it's nice to meet you." Another pointed look. "I-I'm here for your service." He quickly added, and the jefe gave him a satisfied smile. 

"He looks a little young, not your usual taste at all." Another man commented, and Lance felt his face flush. 

"Perfect for you though, is that what you want to say Howard?" The men around the table let out a few small laughs, which were quickly silenced as Don Fernandez raised a hand.

"How old are you, pretty one?"

"E-eleven."

The don said nothing, only gave him a single nod and a motion for him to sit, which he gladly did. 

The jefe sat down after him, hand rubbing his thigh gently. 

He was pleased.

Despite the disgust he felt, Lance couldn't help but feel relieved that the jefe was happy with him.

The jefe cleared his throat, tapping the small stack of papers he held in his free hand against the table

"Don, the reason I actually brought him, I'd because I have decided to put his name down as the next heir to the Angels."

A bark of laughter came from the man sitting next to him, and Lance flinched, instinctually reaching out to the jefe, but had his arms pushed away roughly. He wasn't quite sure what being an heir meant, but whatever it was made people mad, and Lance didn't want anything to do with it. 

"I thought you were showing off a new little slut, he doesn't look fit to be a leader." The man poked a fat finger into Lance's thigh, and Lance once again jerked away. This time however, the jefe did pull him closer, glaring at the man who touched him.

"Theodore, please keep your hands to yourself. **** hasn't given you permission to touch the boy yet. You must respect that." The don looked slightly annoyed, and the man grumbled at being scolded. Lance would have normally laughed at seeing an adult be yelled at, but there was just too much going on that he didn't understand. "Why did you bring him? You could have discussed this with me privately."

"I could have, but I figured I'd show you what makes him so special." A hand came up to caress his hair, and Lance buried his face into the crook of the jefe’s arm, stomach hurting from the bad feelings he felt. “Pajarito?”

And hand brought his chin up, eyes making contact with the jefe’s own. 

“Take off your shirt.”

Lance swallowed hard, pulling himself out of the jefe’s hold and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

He didn’t want to do this. He just wanted to be home. 

“ _ Leo.” _

With trembling hands he moved his hands, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. The jefe made sure Marisol pressed it fresh this morning.  _ ‘To make a good impression.’ _

The shirt slipped off, and it was then when Lance realized just how cold the room was. Goosebumps began to arise on his skin, and he hugged his arms close to his chest, hating the looks he got from the men around the table. They were the same looks that the men the jefe gave him had before they began to hurt him and make him do all those dirty things. 

He didn’t want to do any of that now. 

The don hummed, nodding his head. “He’s pretty skinny, have you been feeding him?”

“Believe it or not, I think I’ve given him more to eat in the past couple months than he has his entire life. He was just bones when he came to me.”

“He’s from Varadero, isn’t he?”

The jefe nodded. “Not the main city, he lives in the smaller pueblo outside of it.”

A snap of fingers caused Lance to tense, and he immediately kneeled, knowing the consequences if he didn’t. A bark of laughter was heard, and shame coursed through him. 

“You have him trained like a bitch.”

“I had to. He needed to learn respect, and where his place was.”

“But now you wish to make him your successor.”

“I do.”

There was a moment of silence, before a sigh echoed throughout the room.

“Leonardo. Pour us some drink.” 

Lance stood up, and bowed his head slightly to the Don, who had given the order. The harsh words of the jefe rang through his ear as he picked up the crystal bottle, too heavy and too large for him to use just one hand. 

_ 'You do everything they say. Or else your family gets it.' _

Going around the table, he filled each of the men’s cups about a fourth of the way full, just as he knew the jefe liked it. Nasty words and comments were thrown at him, things he didn’t fully understand but always heard from those that used him, and Lance had to blink back tears just to be able to see where the glasses were, careful not to spill a single drop or clink the mouth of the bottle to the glass. As he approached the Don, he was feeling more confident that he was doing a good job, and there still seemed to be plenty of drink left of another round, which means he got the amount right as well. It was a silly thing to be proud of, but knowing that he succeeded in this meant the greater chance he would be able to go home. 

But all things had to go bad at some point. 

He was filling the second to last cup, just about done before going to the Don when it happened. A hand touched his backside, fingers pinching through his pants, Lance gasped and jerked forward, stumbling over his own feet to try and get away from the touch. He lost his balance, and instinctually held his arms out to catch his fall. 

The bottle shattered the moment it hit the floor, bursting into a million tiny little pieces, the heavy stench of alcohol filling his nostrils as he landed in the middle of the mess. Tears immediately sprung into his eyes as he felt the small shards pierce into the exposed skin of his belly, chest, and arms, slicing into his skin and leaving a harsh stinging sensation as the alcohol touched the wounds. 

Lance screamed amidst the dead silence of the room, feeling as if his skin was on fire with the amount of pain he felt. He attempted to pull himself back up, whimpering as more glass bit into the palm of his hand. His stomach was littered with shards, blood seeping out of the sides, mixing with the alcohol below as he looked down at the floor frozen on his hands and knees. But before he could fully snap out of his pain something crashed into his back, a weight pushing him back down into the mess. Lance screamed again, feeling the shards burrow deeper inside of him, chest racked with sobs of pain. 

“That was a very expensive bottle, ****.” the Don said quietly, grinding his foot into Lance back, causing the young boy to scream again.

“I apologize on his behalf. I didn’t know he was going to be a clumsy little whore today. I will make sure that it is paid back, and I will send you a new bottle.”

Despite the obvious anger in his voice, and the immense pain he was in, Lance couldn't help but be surprised at the underlying nervousness of the jefe’s voice. 

This wasn’t a part of his plan. He assumed everything would go perfectly, and now he looks like a fool. After all, who puts that much faith into an eleven year old?

“No need. But I will have the boy stay with me tonight.”

Lance’s heart sank. 

“Of course.”

No, no no nononononono. He wanted to see his mom, he wanted to go home. 

Lance twitched as he tried to bite back tears, whimpered as every move dug more pain into him. 

“We will discuss details after the meeting.”

He hoped the meeting never ended. 

* * *

"He was a good little thing for me. Did exactly as he was told. But he's not broken, is he?"

"I don't find joy in lifeless dolls."

"I figured as much. You know, he is very bright. And he has a willingness to learn and grow, I saw that much during our time spent together. A strong fighting spirit."

"Thank you."

"Keep him around. I think, when the time comes, he'll be perfect to lead. Just make sure he's trained up in all other aspects of the job, not just in how to spread his legs."

"Thank you, Don. I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, another side story. with multiple chapters. Instead of updating the actual main story.
> 
> lmao kill me please.
> 
> But in all seriousness, thank you for giving so much love to the last companion piece, and I hope this one will also be helpful to all of you who want to know more about Lance's life in the Angels. This also is a guilty pleasure for me, because i love expanding stories and exploring characters more, not to mention adding some...fun details (mwahahahahaha).
> 
> Also haha you thought I'd give away the jefe's name.
> 
> Anyways, if you have any questions, feel free to reach out!
> 
> Twitter: @eternateaa  
> Instagram: @eternateaa


	2. Earning His Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the jefe pulled away, and Lance took a huge breath in, lungs crying in relief. 
> 
> “Do you want to go home?”
> 
> He wasn’t expecting the question, and he probably should have been more wary concerning the tone of the jefe’s voice, but nevertheless he nodded frantically.
> 
> “Please. I’ll do anything.”
> 
> “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON ON A MINOR, BLOOD, VIOLENCE. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

_ September 30th, 2111- Varadero, Cuba _

"No, no, no please no, I don't want to do this!" Lance yelled, beating his fist against the hand gripped tight around his wrist. But the man didn't even falter in his stride, all but dragging Lance along like a puppet on a string down the long, dank corridor of the hotel basement. 

There was a foul stench of unwashed bodies, and it didn't take Lance long to figure out why. 

He knew what went on behind the ornate doors of the hotel. Hell, he was the one cleaning after every session, sheets soiled with blood and other bodily fluids, naked bodies with glazed looks in their eyes as whatever drug they were on continued their languid grip on their mind and body. 

But down here, there were barely any doors, excluding the heavily locked and guarded ones they walked through to get underground. Instead, chain link fences with heavy locks were there in place of doors, the heavy slaps of bodies, breathy moans now unfiltered and raw. He caught flashes of bare, dirty, and bloodied skin through the fences, nude or partially clothed men towering above them, grinding roughly. 

He wanted to escape this nightmare, just close his eyes and open them to find himself in a new place, back home with his mama, with Benny playing in the backyard. 

But instead he was thrown into what looked like a storage room, this one fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) having an actual, lockable door. 

The door locked behind him, but it did little to trap out the sick sounds he heard as people continuously were abused. His stomach cramped, and he immediately moved over to the far corner of the room, tucking himself between the wall and some tarp covered boxes, trying to quell the trembling of his body. 

He wished Gisele were here, comforting him, telling him everything was going to be alright.

If only he hadn't spoken up. 

He should have known better than to yell, then to get angry and try to fight back when one of the guests reached for him.

The jefe was so, so angry.

There was no warmth in his eyes as he ordered for Lance’s departure. 

And now here he was, cold, alone, with nothing but the wails and screams of the unfortunate victims haunting his mind. A blood-curdling scream was heard, so full of pain that goosebumps erupted across Lance’s flesh, and he shivered in the darkness, praying that he would soon leave this disgusting place. 

* * *

He didn’t know how long it had been. It could have been minutes, hours, even days. 

His body was cramping from being so tightly wound in the cradled position he was in, but he was too afraid to move, too afraid to even try and relax. 

The screams never stopped. They constantly droned on and on. At some point, Lance became used to them, now just white noise in the back of his head as he stared into dark nothingness. 

Hungry, tired, cold. 

How he wished he was home, tucked away in bed with his mama and papa singing him to sleep, a hot cup of milk sitting next to him, and his ceiling full of stars. 

Home seemed so far away now. How long had it been again since he had seen his family? Benny? It had to be a little over a month now. 

He was so lost in his memories that he barely heard the door swing open, but the heavy sound of it knocking against the wall was enough to tense him up, and he hoped that he was hidden away enough that they wouldn’t find him, that they would leave him alone and maybe, just, maybe, he could slip past them undetected. 

“You said you left him here.”

“I-I did, jefe I swear I did.”

Footsteps drew closer and Lance held his breath, pressing himself against the covered boxes in the hopes that they were enough to hide him. Sure enough, the footsteps retreated.

“Does it look like he is in here?” 

“...No.”

“So, what am I to do now?”

“I’ll find him, he couldn’t have gotten far without a key to the front-”

A loud smack was heard, and Lance flinched.

“I want him found. Immediately.”

“Y-yes sir.”

Just as quickly as they were in here, they also left, leaving, and the door was swung shut, leaving the room in silence once again. Lance waited for a minute, not hearing a single noise, before breathing a sigh of relief.

A relief that, unfortunately, came too soon. 

Lance was struck in the back as the box that he was hiding behind was kicked away, dust exploding from the tarp and landing everywhere, in his hair, his eyes, in his mouth, 

His first instinct was to run, and he began to, moving as fast as he could past whoever attacked him. But he was too slow, and an arm latched onto his waist, dragging him back until he was flush against a warm body, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his stomach in order to keep him from leaving.

“You've been a very bad boy Leo.” The jefe’s voice was icy, yet his breath was hot against the shell of Lance’s ear. He felt his lips begin to tremble as tears sprung into his eyes, too scared to even try and move again.

“I-I’m sorry j-jefe. I promise I’ll be g-good.”

“It’s a little too late for promises mijo. Do you realize what you did earlier?” another hand came up and grabbed Lance’s free arm, pulling it back behind him and yanking hard. Something popped in his shoulder, and Lance cried, fat tears falling down his face. “You almost lost my best client. The Professor is to be treated with the utmost respect. And yet you hit him.”

“I’M S-SORRY! PLEASE” 

“Sorry won’t save your family. I could kill them all right now for what you did. I could just call my guards and they would all be dead within the hour. Is that what you want?”

“NO NO NO PLEASE!” His family, he couldn’t let them get hurt. He promised them. He promised his father. He had to keep them safe.

“Then shut up!”

Lance immediately shut his mouth, the pressure inside him almost unbearable, but still, he kept his mouth shut. Only the occasional sniff or whimper left him, and the arms around him loosened their grip slightly. 

“You take orders so well, yet you are still so undisciplined. What would your mother think, he youngest, a good for nothing troublemaker.” A hand came up and brushed his cheek lightly, and Lance turned away from it, another wave of tears threatening to spill. 

“So juvenile, so disrespectful. To think I believed cleaning would be enough to teach you.” The jefe pulled away from him, and Lance fell into a heap on the floor, biting back a shout of pain as his shoulder made impact with the dirty concrete. A scream echoed down the hall, along with the sounds of a metal buckle. Lance turned, looking at the jefe with fear as he unbuckled his belt. 

But instead of taking it off and using it to hit him, the belt stayed on, and Lance felt a chill run down his spine as the jefe looked at him with something dark in his eyes. 

“J-jefe?” He said shakily, and the jefe made a noise that made Lance's skin crawl. 

“I think it’s about time you move on to newer responsibilities. Maybe it will teach you a lesson on respect and discipline.” 

Lance edged away from the slowly advancing jefe, a sick feeling rolling in his stomach. But in a flash the jefe was on him, mouth on his before he could even respond. It was nothing like the way he and Benny used to kiss. Those were soft and nice, and Lance had liked the softness of Benny’s lips on his. Full of love, is what his mama said as she smiled when Lance told her that he wanted to marry Benny. 

This wasn’t full of love at all,

The jefe’s stubble scratched Lance’s smooth skin as the older man devoured Lance’s lips, teeth biting and tongue insistent on getting in. Lance tried his best to squirm away, but the jefe held on to him tightly, forcing the both of them down to the ground, entrapping the younger boy with his own body. 

Lance tried to scream, to plead with the jefe to stop, but the man swallowed any noises that left his mouth, instead shoving his tongue inside, Lance almost gagging at the strange feeling. 

Finally the jefe pulled away, and Lance took a huge breath in, lungs crying in relief. 

“Do you want to go home?”

He wasn’t expecting the question, and he probably should have been more wary concerning the tone of the jefe’s voice, but nevertheless he nodded frantically.

“Please. I’ll do anything.”

“I know.”

Then, hands were on his pants, tugging both them and his underwear down enough to expose his bottom. There was a gentle caress, before the hand pulled back and smacked him hard, causing a yelp to leave his throat. 

It was then that Lance realized what was happening. 

Just like all the people in the rooms he cleaned, just like Gisele, just like the people screaming down here. He was going to go through the same thing. The jefe was going to hurt him.

“J-jefe, please no-”

“You could clear your family’s debt faster by doing this. You could keep your papa alive. All your friends and family would be safe. All you have to do is let me teach you.”

A finger was pressing between his legs, searching, and Lance swallowed the disgust as he listened to the jefe. 

His family. That was why he came to work here in the first place, wasn’t it? His father was gone, and his brothers worked all day, so he was the only one left to protect them. He promised to keep them safe. 

Something pressed into him, dry and rough, and he cried, thrashing. The jefe cooed, combing his free hand through his hair and kissing his head as if to comfort him. 

“NO NO TAKE IT OUT IT HURTS IT HURTS!”

The jefe just chuckled lightly, pressing his finger in deeper, and Lance pounded his fist against the floor, hearing his bones creak in protest, but the pain overshadowed by whatever the jefe was doing. 

“Think of your mami Lance, how would she feel knowing that she died because her son couldn’t suffer even just a little bit for her?”

“M-mami…” Lance buried his face into the ground, crying out at every movement. 

The jefe was right. His parents had suffered so much, he had to keep them safe. He had to. 

The jefe pulled away, and Lance sobbed as the intrusion left. His bottom was so sore, and he could barely move from the pain. But soon, something else, something bigger was pressed against him, and Lance didn’t have to think much to realize what it was. He tensed, closing his eyes tightly, trying to pretend he was somewhere else, someplace happy. But the jefe didn’t even allow him that, yanking on his hair to pull him up against him. 

“Do you want this?”

It sounded sincere, the jefe’s voice soft as he pressed kisses along his face, rubbing himself slowly against Lance. 

He almost answered truthfully, the word ‘no’ resting against the tip of his tongue as his fear and disgust grew. But the jefe’s words rang over and over again in his head, drowning out the moans coming from outside, only accompanied by his pounding heart. How could he say no when it meant that everyone he loved would die? How could he be so selfish. 

“Y-yes.”

The smile wasn’t seen, but Lance could hear it in the older man’s voice. “Say it, then.”

More tears flowed out of his eyes, and he trembled against the jefe's hold. 

“I-I want this. I want it.”

“Perfect.”

Lance screamed.

The pain was unlike anything he ever felt before, burning inside of him as it filled him up. He felt so full, and he gagged at the sensation, wanting to claw himself out of his own skin as the jefe moaned into the skin of his neck, lightly biting down. It felt as if he kept going and going, hitting his stomach, his lungs, even his throat, until finally Lance was sitting fully on his lap. Lance couldn’t seem to stop crying, pain overwhelming his senses. He tried to move away, but every little squirm sent another bolt of pain through. 

“You- you took me so well.” the jefe panted against him, licking his sweat-slicked skin. “Perhaps you were meant to do this all along...good thing we started you off so early.”

Lance couldn’t even bring himself to say anything, afraid that if he opened his mouth he wouldn’t be able to hold in the vomit. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the jefe began to move, thrusting up into Lance, holding him by the skin of his hips. Lance couldn't find the strength to even hold himself up anymore, folded over at the waist, tears running down the bridge of his nose to collect in small puddles on the floor. It was horrible, so horrible, but the worst part was that something inside him started feeling good as the jefe continued to abuse him, making his skin hot and sweaty as the older man moved and groaned. 

“You like it, don’t you? Me fucking you like this? Oh my precious boy, my pajarito…” the jefe sped up his pace, as Lance began to sob louder, and disgustingly, moans began to filter in his cries, senses fritzing out due to everything going on. He could feel something warm and wet drip down his thighs, and he looked down and through bleary eyes saw bright red smears on his skin, running down his legs, staining his pants and underwear that were bunched around his knees. It was then that the bile that had been threatening to come up finally left his body, splattering against the floor and dripping down his chin along with pink tinged drool. The jefe made a slight noise of disgust before ripping off Lance's shirt, using it to hastily wipe the bile away before throwing it to a corner of the room and pushing Lance back against the floor, fucking into him harder as he towered over him, pinching and pulling at his skin, gripping it too hard, kissing dark marks into the previously clean skin. 

It wasn’t until hours later that Lance felt the jefe finally pull out of him, something warm splattering on his back, a name that wasn’t his own hissed through clenched teeth. 

Everything ached, and pain radiated from his privates, rendering him useless to be able to move. 

The jefe stood up with a loud sigh, buckling his belt again as Lance continued to lay on the floor. 

“You did very well. Someone will come to clean you up, and I will talk to someone about getting you your wings tonight. Then you can go home.” The jefe bent down to give Lance one last kiss, before pulling away and walking out the door, never looking back. 

Someone did indeed come in, and Lance was so out of it that he didn’t even recognize Gisele’s soft voice as she wiped him down with a warm cloth, taking extra care around his bottom. She stayed with him as a burly man came in with a strange machine, holding his hand tight as the buzzing needle landed on the tender skin of his back. He could barely feel the pain, but still he cried as the bold lines were drawn on his skin. 

When it was all over Gisele helped wrap up the tattoo, helped him back into his clothes, giving him an old shirt of hers to wear instead of the dirtied mess of a shirt he was wearing before. She even walked out with him, holding him close as the guards leered at him, no doubt hearing of what had transpired. 

But the taunts fell upon deaf ears, Lance was drawn away from the world, the only things keeping him grounded was Gisele’s hand in his own, and the pain that filled every inch of his body. 

It wasn't until his home was in sight that he began to come back, and the weight of everything that had just happened came crashing back, cries tearing from his throat as he ran, ran faster than he ever had before, ignoring the pain that screamed for him to fall. His only focus was on Benny, who had been walking up the steps of the porch, holding something in his hands. 

* * *

Lance cried and cried and cried as Benny held him, and for a moment, despite everything, he was finally home. 

  
  


Benny’s eyes filled with tears again at the boy’s determination. “Leo, you don't have to do this.”

Lance tore his gaze away from Benny and to the floor, lips trembling as a sob escaped his throat. When he looked back up again, Benny didn’t recognize the boy in front of him, something cold overtaking the warmth he was used to.”

“I do have to do this. For them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo yeah this is a thing. 
> 
> This is the first time i have ever uploaded something this explicit, so please go easy on me. 
> 
> But yeah, a not so good memory for Lance.
> 
> Updates:
> 
> I have finally decided to put Respira on construction. It will be one of my main priorities for thsi upcoming week, so I am hoping to have the editing done in about two weeks. In the meantime I will be attempting to also upload new chapters of for this story. It's an Old Song will also be updated at some point, but to be honest there hasn't been a whole lot of traffic on it, so it's on the back burner while I fix Respira. 
> 
> There wont be a whole lot changing, just some minor details, things to edit to make the plot a bit more refined. It will mostly be a grammar and spelling checks for me haha.
> 
> thanks for reading, and thanks for being amazing. Please comment below! (I live off of comments, literally my only source of nourishment). I love you all~~
> 
> -SmStF


	3. Is It Fate?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you think fate is a real thing?" 
> 
> The question was asked with a sort of casualness, as if it were about something mundane, like the weather, or a sports team. But when Keith looked at Lance's face, he could tell there was nothing mundane about it. 

**_Phoeb 7, Deca-Phoeb 2- Planet 3476, Somewhere in the Universe_ **

"Do you think fate is a real thing?" 

The question was asked with a sort of casualness, as if it were about something mundane, like the weather, or a sports team. But when Keith looked at Lance's face, he could tell there was nothing mundane about it. 

The red paladin was pensive as he watched the setting sun of the planet they were on, casting a soft orange glow on everything just before it dipped into the sky. It was a look he had never seen on Lance except in moments where Lance believed that he was alone, or not the center of attention. As if he were remembering something sad and he couldn't help but give in to the emotion of it all. 

At first it was a offhand glance that he gave him after they had a mini confrontation, where he told Lance that he was just a dumb cargo pilot. Lance had acted with bravado, puffing his chest and sticking his tongue out at Keith in an almost theatrical show of anger. But once the conversation faded away from the argument and Shiro began talking of some Garlan fleet, he saw the facade drop, just for a second, and he saw Lance actually, genuinely, look somewhat...sad. Keith of course felt terrible as soon as he saw those eyes dull and arms cross almost protectively around themselves. Lance looked as if he were somewhere else, far away from them all. 

Keith had an uneasy feeling in his stomach for the rest of that day.

He noticed the look a couple more times over the phoebs,and now here they were again, with that same look on his face.

"What do you mean?" His voice came out rougher than he would have liked, but Lance seemed to take no notice at all. 

"Like, do you think we are tied to a destiny? That everything happens to us for a reason bigger than we know?"

Keith pondered the question a bit. It was a really good question, but he was still having trouble processing the sudden shift in mood, and the fact that Lance of all people was asking  _ him  _ this. This definitely was more of a question for a best friend type person. Not for whatever they had.

"I don't know." He answered honestly. He could tell by Lance's frown that that wasn't the answer he wanted. He bit his lip, trying to think of something, anything, he could say to back his reasoning up.

"I mean, I'd like to think so. That the five of us were meant to be the ones to do this. And it really does feel like we are in the right place with the right people."

"Do you think this was planned out since we were born?" Lance had tucked his cheek against his knees as he hugged them close to his chest, looking to Keith as if he were telling a story, rather than answering a question.

"I don't think it would be fair to say that. Because then that would mean that everything in our life  _ had _ to happen in order for us to get here. Like...my mom  _ had _ to leave, and my dad  _ had  _ to die. I don't want to think that's the case." 

Lance's eyes widened, and Keith realized he had unintentionally darkened the mood. He scrambled to figure out how he was going to recover from his misstep, when a light laugh shook him from his thoughts. 

"I think you give yourself very little credit. Your father's death did not make you a better pilot. Shiro still would've recognized your talent and you would have gone to the Garrison."

"But would I have bonded with Shiro the way I did if my father was still alive? Would I have lashed out the way I did when I thought he was dead?"

The red paladin was quiet for a moment, before finally shrugging. 

"I guess we will never know. But I think there is comfort in the fact that there is no definitive answer."

Keith raised a brow at Lance, before scoffing lightly. 

"Okay, and what about you Aristotle?"

"Hmm?"

"What happened in your life that could possibly explain how you ended up here?"

There was a moment of silence, and that was when Keith saw a shift in Lance. It was so minute that he was sure that if he didn't have his heightened senses from his Galra lineage, he wouldn't have been able to notice it. Lance's shoulders tensed under his jacket, and there was the smallest twitch of his mouth and fingers as they sat on his knees. 

His whole demeanor seemed to shift into a more rigid state before eventually relaxing back into his usual way of holding himself. 

"When I was thirteen I went to New York. It was my first time in America and I was so amazed by everything I saw." A wistful smile spread slowly on Lance's face as he closed his eyes. "I met a boy there. He was my age and he kinda had the same personality you did. He was the one who convinced me to send in the application to the Garrison."

"Woah, really?" 

Lance nodded. "He told me to fuck what everyone else thought. That my dreams were worth the consequences."

"Consequences, what do you mean?"

Lance turned to look at him with a slightly panicked expression, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

"Y-yeah, like money and stuff. It's so expensive."

"...right." he was unconvinced, but Lance seemed a bit stressed, so he decided to drop that part of the conversation. "So New York was your destiny affirming event. Sounds like a good time."

"Oh sure was." 

They sat in silence for a few moments, Lance scratching the dirt with his fingernails, before he finally spoke up again.

"I don't think I would change anything about my life if it meant ending up here. It might be selfish, but I worked so hard to get here. Even if I didn't anticipate the whole 'Voltron' thing."

"Selfish?"

The red paladin sighed, flopping onto his back to stare up at the sky. 

"Yeah. Selfish. Like I said, the Garrison was expensive, and the price was almost too big to pay. But I did it anyways and I'm glad I'm here because we are helping people. We are giving them hope, and freedom, and that's all I could ever want."

  
  


He nodded to Lance's words, stomach rolling with some unknown emotion, and looking at Lance just laying there, eyes reflecting the stars above, he just had the urge to hug him. To push away whatever sadness that crept into Lance's voice.

He hated that sadness.

"Well, of all paths we could have taken, I'm glad we ended up here. I can't imagine this team without you Lance." He finally said, releasing the words as if it was a breath he was holding, and the look that Lance gave him struck him in his nerves. Did he overstep? Did he say something he shouldn't have?

But all of those worries disappeared when Lance smiled, the faintest hint of a blush gracing his cheeks, and he lightly punched him in the shoulder.

"You're so sappy, Mullet."

Keith frowned, more for show. If anything he was relieved that Lance didn't read too much into his response."You're the one who started it."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Yo, Lance, Keith, Dinner is ready!" Pidge yelled out from a distance, waving her arms to get their attention. Lance sighed, then rolled his shoulders, throwing his arms back to rest against his head. 

"Cmon Mullet, let's bounce."

And with that, Lance sauntered away, back towards the group, leaving him behind to stare after him.

It was strange to see Lance shrug himself back on like a coat, back to the goofy, laid back kid he showed, nothing in him giving away the newest bonding moment they just shared. Nothing giving away the sadness that was buried deep inside, so far that even Keith could barely see it. 

But it was there. 

Lance was hiding something. But it wasn't his place to figure it out. No matter how much he wanted to. If Lance was willing to talk with him, he'd be there to listen. But for now, they could focus on being the heroes the universe needed. 

He got up as well, the smell of whatever Hunk was cooking wafting it's way over to him, and it was too delicious to put dinner off any longer. as he walked back towards the group, something on the ground caught his eye. It was right where Lance was sitting, something etched in the earth. It must have been what Lance was doing while they sat quietly. A pair of wings, simple, but at the same time there was something elegant about them. The lines were perfect and practiced, as if Lance had drawn them many times before.

'Huh, that's pretty.' He thought to himself, admiring the doodle for a bit, before another shout from Pidge caused him to finally make his way back to the campsite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahaha 
> 
> I'm dead inside. 
> 
> Also, Updates on Respira: I will post the new chapter by the end of the week, but please keep in mind that the story will remain under construction until I specifically say it is no longer.
> 
> Why, you may ask?
> 
> Because in almost one month it will be the two-year anniversary since I started this fic and oh my god that must be torture for you guys and Im so sorry its taken me so long to finish it. 
> 
> So yeah, that stressed me out so i want to hopefully finish this Respira by the end of November. Lets keep our fingers crossed.
> 
> If that worries you, fear not, As The Days March on will be updated with more tidbits of Lances Life, and look out for the prequel which will come sometime after It's An Old Song hits the midway point. 
> 
> Please comment, give kudos, and let me know what you think, and I will see you all soon!
> 
> -SmStF

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, another side story. with multiple chapters. Instead of updating the actual main story. 
> 
> lmao kill me please. 
> 
> But in all seriousness, thank you for giving so much love to the last companion piece, and I hope this one will also be helpful to all of you who want to know more about Lance's life in the Angels. This also is a guilty pleasure for me, because i love expanding stories and exploring characters more, not to mention adding some...fun details (mwahahahahaha). 
> 
> Also haha you thought I'd give away the jefe's name. 
> 
> Anyways, if you have any questions, feel free to reach out!
> 
> Twitter: @eternateaa  
> Instagram: @eternateaa


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